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11 Doppelganger Words: The Resemblance is Eerie

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These word pairs are identical, but not twins. Like the mythical doppelgangers, they were born at different times and places. As “true homonyms” they’re both homophones (sound alikes) and homographs (look alikes). Some pairs can be traced back to the same ancestor whose meaning diverged as it followed different paths into English. Others are totally unrelated.


If you think a dog’s bow-wow and the sheath of a bough are related, you’re barking up the wrong tree. The first is from Old English beorc(noun), beorcan (verb), of Germanic origin; possibly related to break. The second is from Middle English, from Old Norse bҩrkr; perhaps related to birch.


A mondegreen is a misinterpreted song title or lyric. An example is the mishearing of a certain hymn title as “Gladly, the Cross-Eyed Bear.” The verb bear, meaning “to carry, endure or give birth to,” comes from Old English beran, of Germanic origin, from the Indo-European root bher-. The name of the big, hairy lumbering mammal comes from Old English bera, “bear,” from Germanic *berō, meaning “the brown animal,” “bear.”

3. BOW

As Leonardo DiCaprio's character felt the rush of wind in the bow of the Titanic, he was King of the World. He would bow to no one. To bow, meaning to bend the head or upper part of the body as a sign of respect, greeting, or shame, comes from Old English būgan, “bend, stoop,” of Germanic origin. Bow, the front end of a ship, is not documented in English until the 1600s. It’s from Low German boog or Dutch boeg, “shoulder of man or beast, ship’s bow.” Bough, meaning “shoulder or tree branch,” is from the same source, but it appeared centuries earlier, in Old English.

4. BOX

If a butcher says, “I’ll box your ears,” do you duck and cover or say, “Thanks, but wrap my pigs’ knuckles separately”? The noun meaning a square container and the verb meaning to place something in such a container appeared in late Old English, probably from late Latin buxis, from Latin pyxis, “boxwood box,” or from Greek puxos. Box in the sense of a punch or to fight with the fists appeared in late Middle English in the general sense of a blow, of unknown origin.


Back in the day of a certain TV courtroom-drama series, folks would joke about having a “Perry Mason party”: You finish a case in an hour. Turns out, a court “case” and a “case” of beer are two different words. The former case, which also refers to “an instance, something that befalls someone,” entered Middle English from Old French cas, from Latin casus, or “fall,” related to cadere, “to fall.” The container kind of case arose in late Middle English from Old French casse, chasse (modern caisse “trunk, chest, cash register,” châsse “reliquary, frame”), from Latin capsa, related to capere “to hold.”


He spent most of the evening evening off the cake by cutting himself another sliver. Old English ǣfen (later even) meant the close of day. Evening originally meant the coming on of even. Later, evening replaced even. Evening, the action of making even, level, or smooth, comes from the verb even, from Old English ęfnan, æfnan, meaning to accomplish, achieve.

7. LIE

Have you ever caught yourself lying in bed? Lie, “to recline,” is from Old English licgan, of Germanic origin, from the Indo-European root legh-, and shared by Greek lektron, lekhos, and Latin lectus, meaning “bed.” Lie, “to tell a deliberate falsehood,” is from Old English lēogan, of Germanic origin.


She had a light snack: a quart of vanilla ice cream with blanched almonds and whip cream. The adjective light, the opposite of dark, has the same origin as the noun light: Old English lēoht, līht (noun and adjective), of Germanic origin, from the Indo-European root leuk-, shared by Greek leukos, “white,” and Latin lux, “light.” By the time light, the opposite of heavy, showed up in Old English, it looked the same as the other light, but by comparing the words in other languages, etymologists figured that it had a different Indo-European root: legwh-. Legwh- is also the root of lung, the light and fluffy organ.


Looking for your perfect match—one to light your fire? Match in the sense of a suitable companion (in marriage or in a sock drawer) derives from Old English gemæcca, meaning “mate, companion.” The ignitable stick takes the name match from Anglo-Norman and Middle French meche, ”wick,” perhaps from Latin myxa, “spout of a lamp,” later “lamp wick.”


This may take the prize for the longest English homonym. How did a pretty light blue or purple flower get the same name as a gastropod mollusk? The flower’s name is from 4th or 5th century post-classical Latin pervinca (in vinca pervinca). In classical Latin, it was vicapervica, which may have had its origin in a magical formula. As for the mollusk, the peri- part is of unknown origin. The second part is from Old English wincle or wincla, meaning “shellfish” (only in compounds; probably related to Old English wincel, corner, ultimately from the same Germanic base as the verb wink). But wait; there’s a third periwinkle! All right, so it’s obsolete slang, but in the 16th to 18th centuries, periwinkle was an alternate form of periwig, the highly stylized wig that was fashionable at the time.


If you’re walking in the woods and someone says, “Our quarry is just ahead,” do you think, Quiet, don’t startle it or Careful, don’t fall into it? Quarry, “an animal pursued by a hunter, hound, predatory mammal, or bird of prey,” derives from Middle English, from Old French cuiree, an alteration of couree, based on Latin cor, “heart,” influenced by cuir, meaning “leather,” and curer, “clean, disembowel.” Originally, the term denoted the parts of a deer that were placed on the hide and given as a reward to the hounds. Quarry in the sense of a pit from which stone or other materials are or have been extracted arose in Middle English from a variant of medieval Latin quareria, from Old French quarriere, based on Latin quadrum, “a square.”

Sources: Oxford English Dictionary Online, accessed via Los Angeles Public Library; New Oxford American Dictionary, (2nd ed.);  American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (5th ed.).

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
Man Buys Two Metric Tons of LEGO Bricks; Sorts Them Via Machine Learning
May 21, 2017
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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva

Jacques Mattheij made a small, but awesome, mistake. He went on eBay one evening and bid on a bunch of bulk LEGO brick auctions, then went to sleep. Upon waking, he discovered that he was the high bidder on many, and was now the proud owner of two tons of LEGO bricks. (This is about 4400 pounds.) He wrote, "[L]esson 1: if you win almost all bids you are bidding too high."

Mattheij had noticed that bulk, unsorted bricks sell for something like €10/kilogram, whereas sets are roughly €40/kg and rare parts go for up to €100/kg. Much of the value of the bricks is in their sorting. If he could reduce the entropy of these bins of unsorted bricks, he could make a tidy profit. While many people do this work by hand, the problem is enormous—just the kind of challenge for a computer. Mattheij writes:

There are 38000+ shapes and there are 100+ possible shades of color (you can roughly tell how old someone is by asking them what lego colors they remember from their youth).

In the following months, Mattheij built a proof-of-concept sorting system using, of course, LEGO. He broke the problem down into a series of sub-problems (including "feeding LEGO reliably from a hopper is surprisingly hard," one of those facts of nature that will stymie even the best system design). After tinkering with the prototype at length, he expanded the system to a surprisingly complex system of conveyer belts (powered by a home treadmill), various pieces of cabinetry, and "copious quantities of crazy glue."

Here's a video showing the current system running at low speed:

The key part of the system was running the bricks past a camera paired with a computer running a neural net-based image classifier. That allows the computer (when sufficiently trained on brick images) to recognize bricks and thus categorize them by color, shape, or other parameters. Remember that as bricks pass by, they can be in any orientation, can be dirty, can even be stuck to other pieces. So having a flexible software system is key to recognizing—in a fraction of a second—what a given brick is, in order to sort it out. When a match is found, a jet of compressed air pops the piece off the conveyer belt and into a waiting bin.

After much experimentation, Mattheij rewrote the software (several times in fact) to accomplish a variety of basic tasks. At its core, the system takes images from a webcam and feeds them to a neural network to do the classification. Of course, the neural net needs to be "trained" by showing it lots of images, and telling it what those images represent. Mattheij's breakthrough was allowing the machine to effectively train itself, with guidance: Running pieces through allows the system to take its own photos, make a guess, and build on that guess. As long as Mattheij corrects the incorrect guesses, he ends up with a decent (and self-reinforcing) corpus of training data. As the machine continues running, it can rack up more training, allowing it to recognize a broad variety of pieces on the fly.

Here's another video, focusing on how the pieces move on conveyer belts (running at slow speed so puny humans can follow). You can also see the air jets in action:

In an email interview, Mattheij told Mental Floss that the system currently sorts LEGO bricks into more than 50 categories. It can also be run in a color-sorting mode to bin the parts across 12 color groups. (Thus at present you'd likely do a two-pass sort on the bricks: once for shape, then a separate pass for color.) He continues to refine the system, with a focus on making its recognition abilities faster. At some point down the line, he plans to make the software portion open source. You're on your own as far as building conveyer belts, bins, and so forth.

Check out Mattheij's writeup in two parts for more information. It starts with an overview of the story, followed up with a deep dive on the software. He's also tweeting about the project (among other things). And if you look around a bit, you'll find bulk LEGO brick auctions online—it's definitely a thing!

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Nick Briggs/Comic Relief
What Happened to Jamie and Aurelia From Love Actually?
May 26, 2017
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Nick Briggs/Comic Relief

Fans of the romantic-comedy Love Actually recently got a bonus reunion in the form of Red Nose Day Actually, a short charity special that gave audiences a peek at where their favorite characters ended up almost 15 years later.

One of the most improbable pairings from the original film was between Jamie (Colin Firth) and Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz), who fell in love despite almost no shared vocabulary. Jamie is English, and Aurelia is Portuguese, and they know just enough of each other’s native tongues for Jamie to propose and Aurelia to accept.

A decade and a half on, they have both improved their knowledge of each other’s languages—if not perfectly, in Jamie’s case. But apparently, their love is much stronger than his grasp on Portuguese grammar, because they’ve got three bilingual kids and another on the way. (And still enjoy having important romantic moments in the car.)

In 2015, Love Actually script editor Emma Freud revealed via Twitter what happened between Karen and Harry (Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman, who passed away last year). Most of the other couples get happy endings in the short—even if Hugh Grant's character hasn't gotten any better at dancing.

[h/t TV Guide]